Secrets: The New Agent
by DawnSumner000
Summary: Abby Downs is a small-town girl. She's new to the city of Virginia, still trying to find her footing. Finding herself in the wrong place at the wrong time, she becomes embroiled in a hostage situation. It's here she meets Dr. Spencer Reid. He's another hostage. He's also a member of the FBI's behavioral analysis unit…. a unit she only moved to Virginia in order to join.
1. Chapter 1

Abby is regretting this already. Seating in the booth closet to the door, the petite red head takes a bite of the stale blueberry muffin in front of her. The hard bread does nothing to ease the coiling of nerves in her belly. With a crinkle of her nose, she sets it aside. She toys with a loose strand of hair that had managed to free itself from her braid. She shouldn't be nervous. This wasn't her first posting with the FBI. It was her third. Granted, the other two had not been field positions. Most had included her being stuck behind a desk despite having graduated first in her class at the Academy.

Abby had severe social anxiety. It made being around people, new people in particular, fairly difficult. The FBI had overlooked her obvious deficit. The anxiety was brought on by emotional and physical abuse from childhood. Of course, this was something she would never admit to anyone except the therapist she'd been forced to see every day for the last three years. It was part of the FBI's requirement in order for her to continue working with the wondered how her new boss would take to her…. quirks. Would he stick her behind a desk like the previous two?  
The bell above the café door dinged. Abby looked up out of habit. She nearly choked on the bite of muffin she was still struggling to chew. She blinked. His blond hair was rather disheveled but in a cute sort of way. A brown bag slung over his chest, he appraised the small café as if searching for someone in particular. His eyes glossed over her. She ducked her head for reasons unknown even to herself. He wouldn't recognize her…. right? It'd been a while since she'd attended his last lecture.

When he didn't seem to find the person he was looking for, he slid into the booth behind her. The tip of her index finger disappeared between her nervous teeth. She nipped at the corner of her nail, a habit she had yet to break. She was accustomed to being overlooked. His name was Spencer Reid. She hadn't imagined meeting him under such circumstances. She'd envisioned their first meeting to be once she'd officially been welcomed to the BAU.

Should she introduce herself? Or would that be too forward? She wouldn't have the chance to find out. Before she could utter a single word, the door to the café dinged again. This time, it was followed by the sound of rapid gunfire. She didn't flinch. It was a sound she was used to. The other patrons in the café were another story. Every single one of them scurried from the front door.

"Everybody on the floor. Now!" The masked gunman ordered. Everyone obeyed. Well, everyone but her. She remained rooted, unable to move. Another man followed behind the first, shutting the café door behind him.  
The first moved forward. He aimed the barrel of the gun at her face. He repeated the demand. This time, she was forced to do as she said. She slid from the table. Her gun tucked away at her side, hidden by her sweater, it would be far too obvious should she try to grab for it two men were clearly not after money. Spencer Reid mumbled something. Neither of the two-gunman heard but she did. He wasn't talking to her or to anyone in particular. She turned slightly. He didn't seem afraid. Or if he was, he hid it well. Their eyes met. He offered a smile. At this point, Abby saw the earbud tucked away in his ear. Her eyes drifted to it and then back to his face.

Had the BAU been expecting this? Was he undercover? The two gun man began speaking amongst themselves. A man in the corner shifted, his body tensing. He was going to try something…something foolish that would only end up getting him killed. Spencer didn't see it. His back was turned to the man. Abby licked her lower lip. What should she do? She could do nothing and allow the man to get himself killed. Shit. She couldn't do that

"I have to pee." She blurted loud enough for the men to hear.

The one that had entered first turned to her. His brilliant blue eyes burned a hole as he made his approach. "What did you say?"

I said-" The man's hand snatched out, fingers curling in her hair. He hauled her to her feet. His accomplice rolled his eyes but did nothing to stop his fellow criminal. For a moment, she feared the man meant to do her arm. Instead, he shoved her in the direction of the bathroomShe didn't miss the look of concern that flashed across Spencer's face as the man so rudely shoved her again. She staggered beneath the weight of his hand. Abby had expected this. The man had entered first. He was the vulnerable one, the one that was considered expendable. He had a far more volatile temper than his partner. He was the loose end, the key to unravelling whatever the two were there to do.

The man pushed her inside the women's bathroom. Of course, he followed. He locked the door behind him. He wanted privacy. He did intend to do her harm, just a different sort of harm. This was the social interaction she was accustomed to…. despite her limited field experience, she was smart enough to recognize a sexually motivated predator

I been eyeing you since the beginning." He purred, fingers moving to undo his buckle.

"You brought me in here to…." She swallowed. "For privacy?"

He grinned. "I'm nothing if not a gentleman."

She forced a smile to her lips. "Thank you." She forced herself forward. This seemed to please him. He smirked. . He pushed her against a sink, lips crawling over her. She fought back a shudder. His hands pushed inside her jacket. He felt her gun. He recoiled. He reached for his own which had been discarded on the bathroom floor. He was no criminal mastermind. Her knee came up between his legs. When he bent over, she shoved her other knee into his face. He clutched his face, staggering backwards.

"You…you…bitch!" He growled. He moved forward again. She ducked out of the way, foot catching his right ankle enough to throw him off balance. She used this to her advantage, showing his face into the bathroom mirror. The sound of shattering glass was explosive. That surely would catch someone's attention.

To Abby's surprise, the second gunman didn't come running. Perhaps he simply thought his partner incapable of being overwhelmed by a female. She reached inside her jacket, fingers wrapping around the smooth handle of her gun. She pulled it from the holster. As cliché as it may sound, Abby was never more at home then when she had her gun between her fingers. It gave her a sense of security…something she rarely felt these days.

She slowly undid the door lock with the hand not clutching her gun. She opened the door with some caution. The last thing she saw was the barrel of a gun coming directly towards her face. Everything went black


	2. Chapter 2

**SPENCER REID**

"Reid. What's happening?"

Morgan's voice echoed from the other end of the two way mic jammed in his inner ear. Out of all the café's to be placed at, of course he would end up at the one targeted by the unsubs. These particular unsubs were particularly efficient. They didn't bother with the tedious task of hiding their faces from their victims. They had left no survivors at the previous crime scenes that could ID them.

Spencer knew he couldn't give Morgan an answer, not without giving away his employment within the FBI. He could only watch in helpless horror as the girl from earlier, the one that voiced her need to urinate, was listlessly dropped to the floor in front of him. She didn't move. From the soft movements of her chest, at least he knew she was breathing. Only one gunman returned with her. The other was no where to be seen. The gunman that had returned was a white male, approximately thirty to forty years old. He fit their profile.

"Is there a doctor in the house?" The gunman called out to the huddling group of hostages.

Spencer swallowed. He knew drawing attention to himself was a bad idea of, from the terrified glances of aversion from the others around him, he doubted any of them would step forward. He was technically a doctor…. though not the kind the girl needed. He didn't know how much use he would be to her but he had to at least try.

Before he could offer his pretend services, another man lifted himself from the floor. He was an older gentleman with graying hairs and deep wrinkles. "I'm a doctor."

The gunman waved towards the still unconscious girl. "Make sure I didn't just kill an FBI agent."

Spencer's eyebrows shot up. Two FBI agents in the same target area as two unstable unsubs on a killing spree? That couldn't be a coincidence. He nudged closer to the doctor and his still unconscious patient. The gunman had his back turned, peering through the half-closed blinds.

The sound of sirens could be heard through the thin walls. It wouldn't be long until his team formulated a plan. Spencer knew the statistics that all the hostages would make it out of the café alive. The unsub certainly wouldn't. Given his actions thus far, suicide by cop seemed the most logical solution in his mind.

"How is she, doc?" Spencer inquired.

The elderly man gently probed the girl's bleeding head. This earned him a soft moan. "She's alive at least." He sighed. Blood coated the tips of his withdrawing fingers. "Hard to say if they'll be any permanent damage."

"Reid. Talk to me man."

From his tone, Spencer knew Morgan had overheard the bit of news about the unsub possibly having killed an FBI agent. To their knowledge, no one else from the bureau should have been there.

"I'm fine." Spencer mumbled soft enough for just the three of them to hear. The unsub seemed in his own world.

The elderly man appraised him with a lifted eyebrow but said nothing. He turned his attention back to the girl. Spencer felt conflicted. He was doing nothing to bring this conflict to a successful conclusion. The longer the unsub remained locked inside this café, the greater the risk of civilian casualties. On the other hand, should Spencer draw attention to himself, he risked setting the unsub off. He wouldn't hesitate to kill each and every person to accomplish whatever self-imposed goal he was aiming towards.

**DEREK MORGAN**

This was insane. Morgan snatched the earpiece out. He had to find Hotch. Not only was Reid trapped in a café with a pair of madmen, there was apparently another agent in harm's way…an agent that never should have there in the first place. She had been discovered. She had been injured. If they didn't act, and soon, they faced the very real possibility of loosing not only one agent but two.

He spotted Hotch. He and Rossi hunkered beneath a canvas, formulating a plan with the hostage negotiation team. He jogged over towards them, slipping the mic back into his ear. From the Hotch's furrowed brow and the way Rossi covered his mouth, it wasn't good news.

"Hotch." Derek's eyes travelled between his two superiors. "We have a problem."

"Yeah, no kidding." Rossi returned in his usual sarcastic manner.

"SWAT is planning to infiltrate."

"That's a mistake, Hotch. People will die."

The leader of SWAT shook his head. "People will die regardless. This is our best change to minimize-"

Derek slammed the palms of his hand onto the table. "We have two agents in that building!" This statement was enough to pull Hotch's attention from the small café's building layout. He turned from the map, arms crossing over his broad chest. Before he could ask, Derek tapped the in ear mic. "According to Reid, another of our agents is in there. Hotch, the unsub found her badge. She's hurt."

"Can he get a name?"

Derek shook her head. "She's unconscious. One of the unsubs took her to the back of the café. There was a struggle. Second unsub joined his partner. Minutes later, the girl was drug out. She's unconscious, Hotch."

Hotch extended his hand, indicating he wanted Derek to hand over his mic. Derek knew it wasn't optional. He pulled the bud from his ear, handing it over. Hotch stuck it in his own ear, stepping to the side. Derek didn't quite hear what was said but he heard enough to know that he wouldn't be hearing from Reid again. The last thing the team needed was for this unsub to stumble on to the fact that he now had two FBI agents within his grasp.

Derek mentally kicked himself for the situation the boy wonder was in. He and Reid had argued over which café to station themselves at. Reid had insisted this one, the one they now stood in front of, was the most likely given its located to the others. Derek hadn't listened. Reid had taken it upon himself to enter the café. It should've been him.


	3. Chapter 3

(Abby)  
=Abby was only vaguely aware of the probing fingers that explored the side of her face. She invited the coolness of the wooden floor, unable to open her eyes without the overwhelming sensation of the room spinning around her. It took a few moments before the garbled voices around her to become clearer. An unknown male's voice delicately attempted to pull from the brink of darkness.

Her eyelids fluttered, fingers twitching against the floor. A restraining hand appeared against the back of her neck. The unfamiliar voice muttered something she couldn't quite make out. It sounded as if the stranger was reluctant to let her move…not that she could have at that point…not with the throbbing having suddenly become more intense. She couldn't breathe.

"Try not to move." The stranger's voice spoke, more clearly this time around. "You've a nasty head wound."

The stranger explained. Abby knew that already. She held a distinct recollection of the butt of a gun heading towards her face. She didn't remember turning her head at the last minute, but she must of. If she hadn't, the gun would have connected with the front of her face instead.

"I'm going to ask you some questions." The voice continued.

Abby managed a small nod which she immediately regretted.

"Can you tell me your name?"

She licked her lower lip, inhaling sharply. "A-abby. A-bby Downs."

"How old are, miss Downs?"

"Thirty."

"Where are you right now?"

"Virginia."

A few more tedious questions later and the stranger seemed content. "Her memory seems intact." He wasn't talking to her. After a few moments of struggling, she managed to open her eyes. She was greeted with the stares of the terrified hostages. They held one another, as if sensing this was their last day on this earth. Not one of them would return her daze look. She blinked. If…if the second gunman ventured into the back…then why did none of them attempt an escape?

"No…no one escaped?" She managed to choke out./p

"Fear is a powerful motivator." Another voice, this one more familiar to her, spoke. "The unsub threatened the lives of the all the hostages if anyone attempted an escape." The voice fell silent a moment. "Was that your plan? Distract one unsub so the others could escape?"

Abby felt a laugh bubbling in her chest. It hurt. "You give me too much credit." She coughed. "I thought….I thought of the hostages was about to make a move. Didn't….didn't want him getting himself shot." She gasped through the waves of pain sweeping through her head.

Before the other voice could offer a response, Abby felt another's presence. It was the gunman. Well, one of them at least. He hovered over her, dropping into a low squat after a few moments. He pushed back a few strands of hair.

"You're awake."

(Spencer)

This wasn't good. Her name had sparked a flicker of familiarity. Abby Downs. He knew that name. The day before they had started this case, Spencer had travelled to Hotch's office to speak with him in regard to a personal matter…a matter that seemed quite trivial at that moment. As usual, Hotch had been far too busy to notice his arrival. It had taken him a moment before his attention had been pulled from the file he'd been reading.

He'd only managed a glimpse, an accidental one at that, of the name but that was enough. Having an eidetic memory, he couldn't had forgotten even if he'd wanted to. Spencer had tossed around the idea of inquiring about it but decided against it. With Strauss breathing down his neck, he had enough on his plate at the moment. He didn't need an agent questioning him.

Her being here was not a coincidence. Her file in his office could only mean one thing. Hotch was planning on adding another member to the team. And now, that member was lying face down with an unhinged unsub hovering over her. At best, she had a severe concussion. Her words were slurred, and he could tell she was in a significant amount of pain from the way she barely moved. At worst…. well, Spencer didn't care to think of the worst-case scenario.

The unsub knew she was awake. He knelt beside her, paying him and the doctor no attention. He brushed a few strands of auburn hair from her back, a sinister grin spreading across his face. Whatever he had planned for Agent Downs, it was not good.

"I've been waiting for this moment." The unsub cooed. His head tilted to the side, dark eyes appraising the injured Abby. "How long has the FBI been tracking me?"

"I-I-" She stumbled. She clearly had no idea what on earth the unsub was talking about.

This answer proved inadequate to the unsub. He calmly placed the barrel of the gun against the back of her head. "I'd hate to damage that pretty head of yours, but I need an answer."

She couldn't answer. Even if she could, Abby did not have the information the unsub was clearly in desperate need of. But he did. Spencer found himself at an impasse. He could reveal himself as a member of the FBI, therefore putting his own life in grave danger, or he could simply do nothing and allow another agent to perish in his place.

"Tick tok." The unsub goateed, pressing the gun harder against her already injured head.

"She doesn't know." Spencer blurted before he could think better of it. The unsub's eyes lifted, one eyebrow arched. Spencer licked his lower lip, "But I do."

The unsub lifted an eyebrow. "Oh? Is that so, pretty boy? Now, I find that hard to believe." His gaze dropped back to Abby. "She's with the FBI. She knows-"

"My name is Dr. Spencer Reid. I'm part of the FBI's behavioral analysis unit. We've been tracking you and your partner for quite some time now."

That was enough to draw the unsub's weapon from the back of Abby's head. Spencer found himself staring down the barrel of that same gun. The unsub tilted his head, giving him the same look of curious amusement that had only a few moments ago been trained on her.

"Stand up." With a twitch of his gun, the unsub had Spencer on his feet. "Tell me, Dr. Spencer Reid, what does the FBI think of me?"

Spencer knew the profile. It was…well, unflattering to say the least. It painted both unsub's as men several lacking moral compasses. One was dominant, the other submissive. The one standing before him was the clear dominant in this situation. The other had yet to make another appearance. Spencer wondered if he was dead or simply unconscious.

So, Spencer Reid did something he was quite terrible at. He lied.


	4. Chapter 4

(Aaron Hotchner)

Reid was forcing their hand. By announcing himself to the Unsub, he was placing himself in grave danger. They all knew the unsub was unstable. The profile was incomplete but even so, it painted the unsub as a dangerous psychopath incapable of remorse. If ending Reid's life furthered his personal agenda, they all knew the unsub wouldn't hesitate.

Inwardly blaming himself for the situation Reid now found himself in, Hotch entered the tent where they had set up base. The hostage negotiator had been unable to establish a line of communication. The café's phone had been severed. Their only hope now was that Reid could keep the unsub talking long enough for them to find an infiltration point. The Unsub would not surrender. He would not willingly walk out of that café.

Rossi was the first to notice his dour expression. "Hotch?"

"The unsub knows Reid is one of us."

Derek shook his head. "How?"

"Because Reid told him."

"what was he thinking?" Rossi spoke.

Hotch could do nothing but shrug. "That's beside the point now." He turned his attention to the leader of SWAT. "We don't have a choice now. We have to get inside that building. I know Reid. He'll keep the unsub talking for as long as he can."

The SWAT leader offered a nod of his head. "We can enter here." He tapped a spot on the map, indicating the back door of the café. "It is our best option. If your man can get the hostages here…" Again, he tapped the map. He was pointing towards the front door. "Then that will give us the best chance of minimizing civilian casualties."

"Hotch. Are we sure about this?" Derek questioned.

Hotch rubbed the bridge of his nose. Of course, he wasn't sure. He hadn't been sure of himself in quite some time. He spent most of his waking moments analyzing every decision he made, every choice that had led his team into further danger. Hailey and Jack were gone. The job had proven too much for her. He didn't blame her. How could he? She had taken it for as long as she could. Now, he wasn't sure of anything. Without Hailey and Jack, Hotch felt lost.

"What other choice do we have?" Hotch sighed, "I'll try and get word to Reid."

Of course, doing this proved to be a problem in and of itself. They had no idea just how much the unsub was aware of. He could be in possession of Reid's earpiece. He could be the one on the other end, listening in. Either way, it was a risky decision.

Hotch took a step from the tent. Rossi followed. It was clear that the idea of Reid being in any sort of danger didn't sit too well with him. Hell, it didn't sit well with Hotch either. This wouldn't be the first time Reid found himself in danger. Tobias Hankel. He'd taken Reid and tortured him. It had taken Reid months to overcome the trauma of that event. Hotch had a strong suspicion that Reid had developed an addiction to the drug used by Mr. Hankel. Of course, Hotch couldn't prove this.

Knowing there was no other choice, Hotch switched the earpiece back on. "Reid. We're coming in."

* * *

**(Abby)**

The ringing had finally stopped. Abby was able to lift herself from the floor. She leaned against the wall, away from the other hostages, and watched as the young and talented Spencer Reid did his best to talk the unsub down. They both knew it was a waste of energy. The unsub would never allow himself to be taken into FBI custody. She just wished she could figure out why.

The unsub had moved Spencer from the group. He was positioned nearest the front door, in case S.W.A.T chose to use that particular venue to infiltrate the building. They wouldn't. Protocol insisted they use the back entrance. There was less chance of civilian casualties that way.

"I would very much like the chance to study you." Abby overheard Dr. Reid tell the unsub. "I find you fascinating."

"oh come now doctor." The unsub sighed, "We both know this is a stalling tactic. You don't want to study me. You want me dead."

"You were able to effectively avoid our attention for five years. That's almost unheard of." Dr. Reid argued back, nervously shifting from foot to foot. He clutched his hands in front of him, fingers twisting. He knew they were running out of time.

The unsub grinned. "Would you care to guess how I achieved such a task?"

"We profiled that you would have some sort of, um, military background."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Very good, doctor. I was an army ranger for eight years. Wanted to go into the FBI myself. But they said I wasn't fit…that my mental state was too unstable."

And there it was. The reason behind all of this. The unsub was a rejected FBI wannabe. The thought of this psychopath in the FBI was utterly laughable. Abby couldn't control the bubbles of laughter. Of course, this drew the unsub's focus onto her.

Before the man with the gun could even approach her, Abby felt something trickle down from her nose. She lifted two fingers to her nose. When she glanced down at the tips, she saw blood. That wasn't good.

* * *

**(Spencer)**

She was laughing. She was actually laughing. The room fell into a deadly silence. The unsub moved towards her. Spencer took a step with the intent of doing his best to make her back off. He never got the chance. Blood began leaking from her nose. A TBI, or traumatic brain injury, was the most likely cause of such a nosebleed. When the unsub's gun connected with the side of her head, Abby must have sustained more damage than initially thought.

His diagnosis was accurate. A few seconds after the bleeding, Spencer watched as Abby's eyes rolled into the back of her head. She collapsed. The doctor from before was at her side immediately. He rolled her onto her side to prevent asphyxiation. Her entire body began to convulse. Even the unsub appeared in shock. He let his guard down, the tip of his gun for the first time dipping away from the cowering unsubs. This was his chance. He whispered into the mic.

"Now, Hotch."

Everything unfolded within a matter of minutes. The back door burst open, the wood cracking from the seams. A handful of tactical S.W.A.T agents dressed from head to toe in bullet proof clothing swarmed the building. The unsub lifted his gun. It was too late. The S.W.A.T members were quicker. With one shot, point blank, the unsub was taken down.

"We need a medic!" Derek was there, kneeling beside the still convulsing Abby. "Stay with us, girl."


	5. Chapter 5

**(Abby)**

A rhythmic beeping that mimicked her own heartbeat greeted her. Stifling a groan, Abby opened her eyes. It took a few moments for them to adjust to the blinding white light of the hospital room. She shifted beneath the covers, pulling herself rather painfully into a sitting position. The first thing she saw was Spencer Reid at her bedside. Half slouched in a chair, a position that couldn't have been comfortable, he appeared to be asleep.

Should she wake him? That decision was answered for her. His body jerked, eyes flying open. He appeared daze, just a bit disorientated. It cleared the minute he noticed she was awake. He sat the book that he'd been cradling in his lap onto the side dresser.

"You're awake."

"What happened?" It was the first thing she could think to ask.

He licked his lips a moment before speaking. "The unsub was killed by a member of S.W.A.T." His fingers pushed strands of hair from his face. "His partner…"

"Did I kill him?"

Spencer shook his head. "No. The second unsub, the dominant personality, dispatched of his accomplice the moment he served his purpose."

That bit of news shouldn't have caused relief. But it did. Abby had never killed anyone before. She hoped she would never have to.

"What are you doing here?" Abby found herself asking. "Not that I mind or anything. Just…. well, I would think you'd have more important things to do."

Again, he brushed hair from his face. Abby lifted an eyebrow. "There wasn't an emergency contact listed and I figured someone should be here when you woke up."

A faint smile played at the corner of her lips. "Well I appreciate that, Dr. Reid."

Before he could respond, the doctor appeared. She seemed quite relieved that Abby had regained consciousness. Because Spencer was not a member of her family nor her designated emergency contact, he was asked to leave the room.

"Miss Downs. How are you feeling?" The doctor inquired.

Abby took a moment to assess her overall wellbeing. She had a bit of a headache but nothing too bad. "I have a headache."

The doctor smiled, nodding slowly. "That's to be expected." She jotted some notes down on her pad. "I'm putting you on Acetazolamide. It's an antiseizure med."

0Abby frowned. "Is that necessary?"

The doctor paused, eyes flicking up from the pad. "You suffered a significant head trauma. You've already had one seizure. I would like to avoid another."

The doctor was right of course. Abby just didn't like taking medication. Still, if the doctor felt it was the right course of action than who was she to argue. The doctor left the room. Spencer returned. Only this time, he was not alone.

"How are you feeling?" The dark-haired woman to his right asked. She seemed friendly enough.

"I'm feeling okay, given the circumstances. The doctor…." She shifted beneath the covers, suddenly uncomfortable again. "The doctor said I had a seizure."

"You did." Spencer spoke up, confirming what the doctor had said.

"I don't remember." She shrugged.

"That's not uncommon, especially for those that have suffered a seizure after a traumatic brain injury." Spencer spoke again.

"We're just glad you're okay." The dark-haired woman interrupted. "Hotch says you'll be joining us once you've recovered."

Abby's eyebrows pinched. It took her a moment before she recognized the woman. "Oh…. oh! You're, um, Emily Prentiss right?"

The woman smiled. "That's right."

After a few minutes of idle chatting, during which Abby began to grow increasingly more uncomfortable, the doctor finally returned. It was time for them to leave. Visiting hours were over. Abby's head ached something fierce. The doctor gave her something for the pain. Abby fell into a fitful sleep.

**(Hotch)**

**(two weeks later)**

A soft knock at his door pulled Hotch's attention from the pile of papers.

"Come in."

The door opened. Agent Downs walked into his office. She looked every bit the part. Auburn hair tucked neatly into a tight bun, the young and eager agent shut the door behind her. She didn't appear affected by her trauma in the slightest. Therein lay his problem. The bureau was concerned. According to her file, she already suffered from social anxiety. Such an event could exasperate that issue.

"Agent Downs." He motioned towards the chair opposite him. "Please. Have a seat."

She did as instructed. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Agent Hotchner. I'm grateful for the opportunity to work her at the BAU."

"I've been going over your file." He stated, watching the color as it drained from her face.

"Oh. I see."

"I can see that you are a very talented agent. I am, however, concerned about this anxiety of yours."

"I'm seeing a therapist. It's a condition of my employment. I've never missed a session." She began to make assurances.

"Have you spoken with this therapist in regard to your physical assault?"

"I have."

"And what is his or her take?"

Her eyes dropped. "She isn't confident that I'm ready to return to active duty."

Hotch appreciated her honesty. Not many agents in her position would have had the strength to not lie. He nodded, closing the file before him. "I am going to allow you to resume active duty-" She began to speak. He held a hand to silence her. "-with one condition. As you have not been cleared to fly, you will remain behind and work whatever case we are assigned from this building."

Hotch expected an argument to ensue, a confrontation of some sort. Instead, Agent Downs simply nodded. "I understand, sir."

"Good." He stood. So did she. "Now that we have the formalities out of the way, I would like to officially welcome you to the BAU." He offered her the hint of a smile. "I'll introduce you to the rest of the team."

**(Derek)**

Profiling one another wasn't something they were supposed to do. After so many years on the job, it was hard not to do. Derek couldn't help watch the way the new girl carried herself. She bore no personal confidence, that much was clear. She followed behind Hotch like a lost puppy, eyes never quite rising to eye level.

"Everyone. You attention please." Hotch called out, barely raising his voice, "Some of you are already familiar with Agent Downs. She'll be joining us here at the BAU."

JJ stepped towards the young girl. "Hi! I'm Jennifer Jareau, the team's media liaison."

"It's nice to meet you." Downs returned though made no motion to accept JJ's offered hand. Derek frowned. JJ did her best to not act offended, but it was clear enough to anyone with half a brain that she was.

After the initial greetings, Hotch led Downs to her desk. She took a seat. There wasn't one sliver of evidence to support Hotch's decision to allow her transfer to the BAU. He followed Hotch back to his office.

"Hotch, we need to talk."

"Can it wait?" Hotch returned with a sigh. "I've a ton of paperwork."

Derek shut the door. "We both know Downs isn't right for this job."

Hotch settled at his desk. "Her transfer was out of my hands, Derek. I had no say in it. That being said, she'll have the chance to prove if she belongs, one way or the other."


	6. Chapter 6

**(Spencer)**

She'd been regulated to desk duty. From the crinkles of disappointment in her forehead, she wasn't thrilled about it. Spencer hadn't seen her since that day three weeks ago at the hospital. She didn't seem the social type. He didn't want to intrude on her privacy. A trauma, like the one she had gone through, was bond to have a negative effect on her if she let it.

Spencer knew about trauma. It'd been a year since his ordeal involving Tobias Hankel and he still struggled to sleep through the night. Tobias had forced the drug Dilaudid into his veins to ease his torture at the hands of his alter personality. He had begun to crave the illicit drug. He'd even gone so far as to bring vials into the building. He had been clean for a while now but, still, the cravings haunted 's what he'd gone into Hotch's office those weeks ago to confess. Of course, he hadn't. He'd lost his nerve. The BAU was his life. He didn't know what he'd do without it.

The clearing of a voice brought him back to reality. Derek stood at his desk, one eyebrow lifted. Spencer averted his eyes, having not realize he'd been didn't try to hide the smirk that flickered across his lips.

"You should go talk to her."

"Hm?" Spencer grunted, feigning as if he didn't know exactly what Derek was talking about. He wasn't fooled, not even for a moment.

"Look, I get it. She's…hot." Derek sighed, discreetly throwing the newest BAU agent a side glance. "I mean, if you're into that sort of thing."

Spencer couldn't help but look again. Something in his tone made Spencer wonder if Derek saw something in Abby that he had missed. When Spencer looked back, Derek was shaking his head.

"You don't see It, do you?"

"What exactly is it I'm supposed to be seeing?" Spencer was genuinely was socially awkward, sure, but it was her first day after a major almost life changing trauma. Who wouldn't be a little reluctant to engage in conversation after such an event? From his perspective, Spencer couldn't see any physical deficit that would be automatically rolled his eyes.

"She's broken, man. She's got my business being in the BAU."

Spencer's eyebrows pinched in confusion. "That's a bit presumptuous." Spencer argued. "It's her first day."

Emily chose that moment to walk by. Derek grabbed her attention.

"Emily, help me out with something." He tilted his chin towards Abby. "What's the first thing you see when you look at her?"

"She lacks confidence." Emily said with half a heartbeat of hesitation.

"You barely even know her." Spencer found himself defending Abby. He remembered his first day. He had been groomed, handpicked from the minute he'd joined the Academy, for this specific job. Back then, he'd been at least twice as awkward as Abby. He'd ramble off random facts which led to some serious tension between himself and the other members of the BAU.

"And you do?" Emily returned.

"Well, no. But that's my point. None of us really know her."

"Hey. I've tried." Emily argued the point. "She shut me down at every turn. She just doesn't seem interested." She shrugged.

"Maybe you'll have better luck, pretty boy." Derek said with a wink.

"Don't call me that." Spencer , perhaps, Derek was right. The two did seem to have more in common than the rest of the team. They were closer in age for one. They had both gone through significant trauma in their time in the BAU./p

(Abby)

They were talking about her. Derek. Emily. Spencer. There was little doubt in her mind from the not so discreet glances and the hushed whispers. Abby did her best to ignore them. It wasn't hard to picture what they thought of her. She was quiet, a little too quiet maybe. They hadn't had a case yet. Abby entertained herself pouring over old case files, doing her best to get a taste on what she would be expected to do from this point out.

A bubble of panic formed in the pit of her stomach. Reaching inside her desk, Abby pulled out a rubber band. She slipped it around her wrist. Snap. Snap. Snap. It was a method of clearing her head that, although against her therapist wishes, helped center of her. It hurt. It was supposed to. The pain helped.

A shadow fell over her. She stopped snapping the band. An unfamiliar face gazed down at her. Her cheeks reddened. His eyes were not on her face but on the rubber band. He lifted an eyebrow.

"Doesn't that hurt?"She licked her lips, offering a nonchalant shrug.

"Not really." She slid the rubber band off her wrist. "Can-can I help you?"

"David Rossi. We haven't officially met." He offered a hand.

Swallowing the panic, she forced herself to take it. The contact lasted a few seconds, at best. When he released her hand, she fought the urge to dump copious amount of hand sanitizer onto her skin. What sort of message would THAT send?

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Agent Rossi. I've read all your books."

They chatted for a few moments. Well, technically, he did most of the talking. Abby mostly just listened with a few mutterings of agreement here and there.

"Hey, new girl." A voice suddenly shouted at her from across the room. It was Derek Morgan. "We're headed to O'Flannerys. Care to tag along?" The rest of the team, Spencer included, had already gathered up their belongings.

"You should go." Rossi interjected. "It'd be good for you." That last part was said in more of a whisper. The rest of the team didn't hear.

"I-I don't drink." Abby returned with a wrinkle of her nose.

"Neither does Spencer." Emily laughed. "Come on. It'll be fun."

Abby didn't know if she would call it fun. Rossi was right. This was another opportunity to her with her anxiety. She didn't have to drink. It would bring her closer to those around her. Who knows? Perhaps she would find they weren't so bad."Oh, why not?" Abby returned with a half-smile. She snatched her purse from inside her desk and went to join the others. She fell in behind the rest.


	7. Chapter 7

**(****Spencer)**

She didn't want to be here. Abby positioned herself separate from the group but close enough to engage in conversation if needed. JJ and Emily were far too engrossed in their own conversations to even notice the way Abby's leg bounced, the way she refused to so much as make eye contact with another person. Spencer knew what it was to feel like an outsider.

Derek finally sauntered back from the bar, his attempts at picking up what he called a "hot date" having failed. He slumped into the chair next to Spencer. He playfully nudged Spencer in the ribs. Spencer frowned. Derek meant well enough but they both knew the rules on fraternization between FBI agents. It was highly frowned upon. Besides, that was one-line Spencer would never cross.

Derek seemed to realize that Spencer was reluctant to engage in conversation with Abby so he took the initiative. "Hey. New girl."

Abby's face lifted, eyebrows furrowing. She knew Derek knew her name. It seemed to aggravate her that he wasn't using it. "It's Abby." She cleared her throat, taking a sip of her water. "Not new girl."

Spencer blinked. Though she regretted it the moment she said it, from the way her eyes immediately dropped, it showed she was gaining boldness. Which was a good thing. It took Derek a moment to shake off her disdain ridden tone. When he finally did, that same confident smile reappeared.

"Fair enough." He sipped his drink. "So, Abby, why don't you tell us a little something about yourself?"

She blinked. "Um, okay, there's not much to tell." Spencer watched as she nervously tucked a loose strand of hair from her face. Her hair was in a perpetual state of disarray, much like his own. His lips tilted slightly.

"Any family in the area?" JJ offered.

"I'm an only child." Abby was quick to answer. There was no mention of parents.

"What about your parents?" Derek asked. Her lips pressed together in a firm line and a shadow of some kind fell over her face. She retreated back into her personal shell.

"I'd…I'd rather not talk about them if it's all the same."

A subtle movement of her hand led Spencer's eyes to her arm. Though partially hidden beneath the table, Spencer was at an angle to see the way she gripped that moment, it clicked. Spencer had seen this before, the same social anxiety, the same forced isolation. It was most prevalent in child abuse survivors. Whether that abuse was physical or sexual, he couldn't tell. With a swift glance around the table, Spencer came to the conclusion that no one else at the two tables had figured it out. How could they? They hadn't seen what he had. He wouldn't tell them. It wasn't his story to tell.

"So, Abby, what brought you to the BAU?" Spencer spoke up, hoping to serve as a distraction from whatever painful memories were flickering through her brain at that moment. She was a half second away from answering when the shattering of a dropped glass snapped her back out of focus. Spencer watched the flicker of panic cross her face, her body freezing. JJ and Emily exchanged worried glances.

"I'm-I'm sorry." She murmured. "I guess I'm still a bit jumpy."

"It happens to the best of us." Derek assured her."I'll be…be right back."

Before anyone could speak a word to stop her, Abby was out of her seat and rushing through the crowded bar towards the bathroom."Still think she belongs here?" Derek asked, pulling Spencer's attention back from her retreating form. It wasn't spoken in malicious. In fact, Derek seemed quite worried for the new agent. They all were.

* * *

(Abby)

The bathroom tile beneath the palms of her heads did nothing to ease the fever coursing through her veins. Her stomach had nothing left to give, despite the nausea that still gnawed at her gut. She'd expected the questions about her family to come at some point. She just didn't think it would be so soon. That, coupled with the shattering of the glass, had escalated her anxiety. She couldn't breathe.

"Breathe…just…breathe…" She murmured to herself, rocking back and forth on the bathroom floor.

Abby didn't take medication…not anymore. She'd suffered from substance abuse in the past, something she vowed never to repeat. Her psychiatrist assured her that an anti-anxiety medication would do her more good than harm. She had disagreed.

Abby forced herself from the floor. She opened the stall door. She crossed to the sink, splashing copious amounts of water onto her face. Thank god she didn't wear makeup. When she looked up, for just the briefest of moments, Abby saw that same scared little girl.

She forced her eyes shut, doing her best to banish those images from her brain. Her therapist knew a bit about what she had suffered as a child but even she didn't know the full extent of it. No one did. Abby preferred it that way. She knew from experience that people looked at childhood abuse survivors different. She didn't want anyone, much less those that she worked with, looking at her like that.

Abby dried her hands and wandered back out to join her coworkers. She got halfway to the table when she began to pick up bits of the conversation.

"-something is clearly off about her-" That was Derek. Their backs were all turned to her. She stood there, frozen, listening as they all began to dissect her unusual ticks. The only person that did not join in was Spencer. He was virtually silent.

This was a mistake. She took a sharp inhale of air before approaching the tables. "I'm sorry, guys. I've got to run. It's late and I'm pretty beat."

No one tried to stop her. It wasn't until she was on the curb, attempting to flag down a taxi, that she felt a hand on her arm. On instinct, she flinched. She regretted it. Spencer stood there, lips tilted into a frown.

"It gets better."

She looked away, searching the empty street for a taxi. "What gets better?"

"You underwent a serious trauma, Abby. It's understandable you would be relieving those past events."

"Spence….I'm fine." She lied. She felt a flicker of guilt. Spencer seemed like a good guy. He was nice and was at least trying. That was more than she could say for the rest of them, Derek in particular.

"You're one of two people that calls me Spence."

Her head swiveled. He had jumped topics awfully fast. Spencer knew she didn't want to talk about what had happened inside that bar, so he was purposefully steering the conversation away from that.

"Oh? Let me guess….JJ?"

He smiled. "How did you know?"

Abby offered a shrug. "Just a guess. She seems nice."

"You should really give them a chance. Their not so bad once you get to know them."

"Even Derek?"

His smile broadened, followed by the smallest hint of a laugh. He tucked loose strands of hair behind his ears. Abby's nose crinkled. "You, Dr. Reid, need a haircut."

"So I've been told."

A cab pulled up at that moment. "I'll…see you tomorrow?"

"Definitely."


	8. Chapter 8

**(Hotch)**

Hotch was alone. He didn't even know what time it was. He thumbed the bridge of his nose. The mountain of paperwork left from their last case had drawn him into the office far too early. The rest of his team hadn't even arrived yet. And they wouldn't. Not for several hours.

"Agent Hotchner." Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard. He glanced up. Chief Strauss stood in his doorway, lips pressed into a thin line. Whatever brought her to his office at this hour, it couldn't be good. Without waiting for an invitation, she waltzed into the office. She shut the door before taking a seat.

"How is Agent Downs handling her new assignment?" She inquired with the bare hint of a smile.

Aaron offered a shrug in response. "As well as can be expected, ma'am."

"I see you are not involving her with any active cases." She leaned forward narrowed his eyes slightly, folding his hands before him on his desk.

"With all due respect-"He began to say. She cut him off with the slightly lift of her hand.

"Are you aware of Senator Downing?"

Hotch nodded slowly. He was not a fan of the senator. In his previous employment as a prosecutor, Hotch had heard rumors involving the senator and underaged prostitutes. Nothing was ever corroborated.

"It would appear the Senator pulled some strings in order to get Miss. Downs transferred here."

It was clear that, although Strauss was the one to insist Hotch accept the transfer, she did not approve of it. Like him, she was simply following orders.

"Why?" It was the only thing he could think to ask."Because she's his daughter."

* * *

**(Spencer)**

This couldn't be good. Chief Strauss had been in Hotch's office for the past two hours, ever since he'd first arrived. She rarely, if ever, visited. When she did, it was always to deliver bad news. Abby didn't seem to notice or even care that the unit chief was paying their boss a visit. She sat her desk, quiet as always.

"What's Strauss doing here?" Derek inquired, arrived last as shrugged.

"I have no idea."

Rossi just so happened to wander by. He scoffed at Spencer's statement. "Well, that's a first."

The older man's attempt at a joke failed. Everyone was too on edge with the sudden appearance of the Unit Chief to recognize the humor behind his words. Even if they were true. Spencer could count on one the hand the amount of times he had failed at having knowledge on a particular subject.

Emily popped up. "Why is Strauss in Hotch's office?"

No one answered because, at that moment, the door to Hotch's office opened. He didn't exit. He stood in the door way a moment.

"Downs. My office please."Abby's head jerked up at the sound of her name being called. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She set her book aside. She adjusted her shirt before striding towards where Hotch stood. He stepped to the side, allowing Abby to enter. He met their gaze but said nothing. Instead, he shut the door and retreated back inside the office.

"Well, guess that answers that question." Derek said with a sigh.

"You don't-" Emily started to say, "I mean, she can't be getting fired. She hasn't done anything. Hotch hasn't let her."

It would be highly suspect for Abby to be cut from her current position with such short notice. Emily was right. Abby had done nothing but sit at her desk for weeks on end. Hotch refused to allow her to work on any active case so it was unlikely to do with anything work related."We'll know soon enough." Rossi replied.

* * *

**(Abby)**  
Abby didn't know what to expect as she stepped inside Hotch's office. A woman was there, someone she did not recognize. She offered Abby her hand. "Agent Downs. I'm Unit Chief Erin Strauss. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Abby returned the woman's handshake though her confusion remained. This woman greeted her as if they were friends. It made her more than a little anxious. The woman waved her towards her a seat, gesturing that she would like Abby to take seat. She slipped into one of Hotch's chairs, hands folding in her lap. It took every inch of willpower not to fidget.

"I'll cut right to the chase. I've brought you in here to discuss something of a…. personal matter with you."

"Personal…matter?"

"It's about your father, Agent Downs."

In that split second, Abby felt the color drain from her face. Her stomach tightened, heart thumping against her ribcage. She struggled to catch her breath. Her eyes dropped but too late. She knew Hotch had seen the fear and the anger, like that of a caged animal, shining from her hadn't seen her father since she'd left home at fifteen. And for good reason.

"Agent Downs? Are you listening? "

"I'm listening. And my answer is no." Abby replied, returning her attention to her superior Strauss blinked.

"I beg your pardon?" She clearly did not like being told no

Abby took a breath of air, averting her gaze. She had no where to look but directly ahead…. where Hotch could see every single emotion flickering across her face despite her best attempt to hide it.

"Whatever he wants, the answer is no."

"He just wants to talk."

Her chest began to ache, her hands trembling in her lap. "My answer remains. No. I don't want to see him. I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to even breath the same air as him."

Her father was a man of power, of influence. Except when it involved his daughter. Then, he was a coward…incapable of doing anything to prevent her suffering. And she hated him for it.

"Chief Strauss-" Hotch began to come to her aid.

"Stay out of this, Agent Hotchner." Strauss warned. "Agent Downs. Trust me when I say, I am not a fan of your father. I am not a fan of how he manipulated the director into allowing you to join the FBI in the first place. Truth be told, you have no business as an FBI agent. But, that's out of my hands. But, seeing as how he is responsible for your appointment to the FBI, if he wants to talk to you, then so be it."

"Is that a direct order, ma'am?" Abby inquired.

Strauss regarded her for a moment before answering. "Of course it isn't. That would be an abuse of my-"Abby didn't give the woman a chance at a reply. She stood, rather abruptly in fact. The door slammed shut behind her. Of course, drawing each and every eye to her. She barely made it two steps before she felt the familiar churning in her stomach. She bolted for the restroom, all too aware of the eyes that followed.


End file.
